A howling north wind haunted Moosehead Lake on Memorial Day weekend but it didn’t spook the anglers trolling the whitecapped waters. And for good reason: after a disturbing period of declining piscatorial health, the 75,000-acre fishery is on the mend.

Saturday’s skies were as gray as a salmon’s back when Earl Hamm of Holden eased his 20-foot boat out of Beaver Cove Marina and set a course for Sugar Island. Aboard were Holden’s sportiest selectman, Ken Lynch, the brothers Roy and Art Estes of Standish and you know who. Suffice it to say, we had enough boat and by the time we tucked in behind the island we were glad of it.

The decision to leave Ken’s 15-foot boat in its berth at Beaver Cove was unanimous. Although it would have handled the chop churning through The Narrows at the head of Sugar Island and into Lily Bay, the smaller boat surely would have swamped out on the lake’s deep-troughed whitecaps, especially in a following sea.

Now, if you’ve signed your name to a few fishing licenses, you know that when several rods are rigged, one usually produces most of the action. So it was that, with four rods – one to port and starboard, two astern – trolling smelts behind three colors or so of lead-core line, Roy Estes became busier than a bird building a nest. In short succession, his stern rod did five abrupt backbends that filled the boat with cheers but produced no fish.

Naturally, the Standish Sport, a brook fisherman who admits to having fished lakes only a couple of times, was barbed with good-natured ribbing regarding his “involuntary releases.” One salmon, guesstimated at 3 pounds, give or take, shook loose at the stern while the net was being fetched from the bow. You know how that goes.

In Roy’s defense, I’ll say it appeared that the fish were “striking short.” At least it felt that way: I failed to hook up on two less-than-solid strikes, even though I was holding the rod. Frankly, I don’t trust rod-holders. Aside from not feeling the strike that starts a rod dancing and a reel singing, a lot of hit-and-run fish escape in the time it takes to rattle a rod loose from a holder.

Eventually, after Ken Lynch had a strike that didn’t stick, Art Estes caught and released a keeper salmon. In the interim, however, one of three occupants of a nearby boat held up a stringer showing three salmon and a togue. Each of the fish appeared to be in the 2 1/2-pound range. Accordingly, several other boats fishing in the lee of Sugar Island had salmon on stringers.

Nevertheless, our frustration was festive. At the helm, Cap’n Earl quipped, “I’m going to turn this fish-finder upside down so these fish showing on bottom will be on top.” There’s more to fishing than catching fish.

To see Moosehead Lake again attracting anglers and producing fish was more than heartening. Therefore, allowing that some people will attribute that progress to an act of God or global warming or El Nino or whatever, let’s cast a few words of credit in the direction of regional biologist Paul Johnson and his crew, biologists Scott Roy and Tim Obrey. They’ve taken a lot of criticism in regard to Moosehead’s slow fishing in recent years but it appears now that their restoration program is paying off. Cautiously optimistic, Paul says, “We’ve turned the corner but it will take a little more time to get where we want to be.” Therein lies a message that cannot be ignored: fisheries and wildlife restoration programs take time; but it takes only a short time to decimate those resources.

Moreover, it was great to see a freshet of angler activity flowing through Greenville. Vehicles towing fishing boats and carrying canoes and camping gear occupied the parking areas of campgrounds, convenience stores, restaurants, filling stations and, of course, Dan Legere’s Maine Guide Fly Shop. When Ken Lynch and I stopped in to stock up on smelts, Dan tossed in a limit of angling information: “It’s been fantastic,” he said. “Guys coming in are saying they can’t believe how good the fishing is. The lake’s producing nice, healthy salmon and people trolling streamers in on the rocks are taking trout.” As for smelts, the key to salmonid fisheries, Dan said the run in Moose River was so heavy this spring that the fish were crowding each other onto the banks. There you have it.

“The ponds are producing, too,” the veteran guide continued. “I’ve seen three brookies better than 4 pounds apiece. The Hendrickson hatches have just come on, which means the Blue-Winged Olives and Red Quills and Caddis hatches will be right behind them. Salmon fishing on the West Branch has been good at ‘Sowadnehunk Deadwater, but the fishing will improve in the upriver pools when the hatches come on.” As though to confirm that, no sooner were the words spoken when an angler stepped through the door and asked, “Got any Hendricksons?”

After a swift Sunday morning breakfast, we again struck for Sugar Island. Under layers of leaden clouds, the lake boiled and frothed like a witch’s brew. But within the hour, sunlight spilled through the wind-torn overcast and cloud shadows climbed the spring-green slopes of Squaw and Lily Bay mountains.

Ken Lynch wasn’t long in catching and releasing a 16-inch togue, but overnight the salmon, typically, had become anti-social. We offered them smelts, lures and streamers fished high and low, fast and slow, but with no net profit. When a boat trolled past us, an angler who had fared no better held his hands a couple of feet apart, signaling the question, “Any luck?” In response, I shook my head – then held my hands about 4 feet apart.

Moosehead Lake is on the mend.

Tom Hennessey’s column can be accessed on the BDN Internet page at: www.bangornews.com.